


Amanita Phalloides

by midas_touch_of_angst



Series: A Series of Unfortunate Events - One Shots [5]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket, We Have Always Lived in the Castle - Shirley Jackson
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Alternature Universe - Shirley Jackson, Arson, Fiona is Feral, Gen, Klaus is a fucking cat, Murder, Mushrooms, Poisonous Mushrooms, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, Sugar Bowl - Freeform, arsenic - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 21:58:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20785703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midas_touch_of_angst/pseuds/midas_touch_of_angst
Summary: Fiona Kassius Widdershins is eighteen years old, and lives with her brother Fernald. She often thought that with any luck at all, she could have been a selkie, because her fingers and toes were ever-so-slightly webbed, but she will have to be content with what she has. She dislikes washing herself, and dogs, and noise. She likes her brother Fernald, and Olga Fassatiová, and Amanita phalloides, the death-cup mushroom.Everyone else in her family is dead.





	Amanita Phalloides

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR SPOILERS for "We Have Always Lived in the Castle" if you have not read it!

Fiona Kassius Widdershins is eighteen years old, and lives with her brother Fernald. She often thought that with any luck at all, she could have been a selkie, because her fingers and toes were ever-so-slightly webbed, but she will have to be content with what she has. She dislikes washing herself, and dogs, and noise. She likes her brother Fernald, and Olga Fassatiová, and Amanita phalloides, the death-cup mushroom. Everyone else in her family is dead. 

The last time she saw the library books on the shelf, they were several months overdue. She’d always been careful selecting library books, as they had books in the house, several books from her Mother’s study that they had not read yet, and in the cellar, where their ancestors placed their prized possessions. But she liked mycological studies and fairy tales, and Fernald liked poetry. Although her Stepfather never took up a book, he always liked to see Fernald reading in the evenings while he worked at his papers. Fiona sometimes wondered if she would have chosen differently if she had known these were the last books. 

She’d brought the books home on a Friday in late April. Fridays and Tuesdays were terrible days, because she had to go into the village. Someone had to go to the library and the grocery; Fernald never went past his and Fiona’s garden, and Stepfather could not. Therefore it was not pride that took her into the village twice a week, or even stubbornness, but only the simple need for books and food. It may have been pride that brought her into Black Cat Coffee on those mornings before she started home; she told herself it was pride and would not avoid going in no matter how much she wanted to be at home, because then Josephine would see her pass and think she was afraid. 

She went to the library first on that day, to check out her books. She stood at the library steps on her way out, staring down the sidewalk. She wondered how she would get to the grocery store this week. If she crossed the street here, she would have to pass by the general store, and dsee the men sitting in front, who stayed young and did the gossiping, unlike the women, who stayed at home and listened attentively to the gossip. He could walk down this street and cross at the grocers, but then she’d go past the post office and the Count’s house with the piles of rusted tin and broken automobiles and empty gas tins and old mattresses and plumbing fixtures and wash tubs that the Reads brought when they moved in. The house should have belonged to their mother; she had been born there. But it didn’t belong to them any longer, so someone moved in and decided to torment them by making it look unlivable. At least, she assumed that was why it was so filthy. Why wouldn’t it be? 

She didn’t remember which way she took that day, but it didn’t matter. Both ways were unbearable. She marveled, sometimes, when she would watch from outside as Esmé Squalor or Arthur Poe walked into a store, to pick up parsley soda or another box of tissues, and were greeted with a “good morning” and the note that the weather was better that day. People loved the Squalors and the Poes, and the Reads, and the Calibans, and the Montgomerys, and the Spatses and the Mitchums and the Smiths, Olds and Knights. 

The people of the village have always hated Fiona’s family. 

Fiona walked quickly; she had her library books and her shopping bag to carry and she watched her feet moving one after the other, two feet in their mother’s old brown shoes. Someone was watching her from the post office- that’s right, she took the route by the post office, she remembered because she wondered if they’d hated them for never accepting mail or telephone calls, not for the last six years- and past the Read house. She wondered when the people there had been told the house should have belonged to Fernald. 

She had to cross the street, and paused a moment, to make sure no cars scared her. Sometimes cars liked to scare her, and then she’d drop her books. And then there would be the laughter. Oh, the laughter, to see Fiona Kassius Widdershins almost hit by a car. It was the only laughter the people in this village could get. It always seemed dull and sad, and the houses were ugly and looming and gray and set up just to provide homes for the drab and unpleasant. The only houses that hadn’t were the Read house, and the Widdershins house, and the town hall. But the Read house was unpleasant now, and the town hall held many glarers, and the Widdershins house was far away. Far away from the rot inside all of the gray houses. She was glad the rot was there. 

She went into the grocery store, pulling her list from her bag that Fernald had made for her. She was happy to see there were no children who could run at her and get dragged away that day; there was only Georgina Orwell, and Miranda Caliban, and the man behind the counter. She couldn’t remember his name. It didn’t matter, he hated her, too. 

“Good morning.” Fiona said. He nodded at her. It would be rude not to reply at all, but Georgina and Miranda were watching. They were staring at her. Waiting for her to leave so they could begin the wave of talk. 

“A roasting chicken,” Fiona said, and across the store the stockerwoman opened a refrigerated case and took out a chicken to wrap. “A small leg of lamb- my Stepfather always fancies a roasted lamb in the first spring days. Onions, coffee, bread, flour. Walnuts… two quarts of milk, a half pint of ice cream, a pound of butter, a box of peanut brittle. And eggs. My family forgot to put them on the list, but there are only two at home.” 

“The Widdershins always did set a fine table.” whispered Georgina, and Miranda giggled. 

Fiona did not turn to look at her. “And sugar.” Everyone in the store went deadly silent. “We are running very low on sugar.” 

When she returned her groceries, she checked the receipt slowly, just so the man knew she was reading it closely, and then she handed over the money she’d been given from the safe that day. The groceries filled her shopping bag and another bag, and she turned and left, walking past the glares of the man and the stockerwoman and Georgina and Miranda. She wished they were dead. She would have liked to come in that morning and see them all dead. Fernald said it was wrong to hate the villagers. But she hated them anyway. 

She had to walk by everyone else on her way back. “That’s one of the Widdershins children.” “The girl from Widdershins farm.” “Too bad about the Widdershins, too bad about those poor kids.” “Never can tell what will grow on that land.” 

_ I am walking on their bodies. _ Fiona thought, to get herself through it. _ Maybe we can have lunch in the garden today. _

She stopped at Black Cat, and looked down at the crack in the sidewalk. It had been there since her mother was a child, and since her own parents had been children, and she remembered Fernald teaching her how to roller skate down this road. Before the village hated them. 

She stopped inside, and Josephine said, “Good morning, Fiona.” 

“Good morning, Josephine.” 

“How are you today?” 

Fiona sat at the end of the counter, as she always did, and said, as she always did, “Very well, thank you.” 

“And Fernald, is he well?” 

“Very well, thank you.” 

“And how is _ he?” _

“As well as can be expected. Black coffee, please.” 

Usually, when someone came into Black Cat, Fiona could put money on the counter and leave quickly. But some days she was unlucky. As Josephine handed her the coffee, the bell rang and someone entered. Fiona reached into her pockets to grab money, and at that moment, Nero sat beside her. 

“Well, isn’t this interesting?” he said. “Fiona Widdershins stopping by town.” 

She always stopped by town on Tuesdays and Fridays. She always stopped at Black Cat. He should know that. 

“I heard that you and your family were moving away. Is that true?”

“Nero, leave the girl alone.” Josephine said, though noncommittally. She wasn’t even looking at them, busying herself with some cobweb or other. 

_ “Leave the girl alone. _I’m just asking her a question. Is there any harm in asking a question?” 

“No.” Fiona said.

Nero eyed her. _ “No? _ No _ what?” _

“No, there is no harm,” Fiona said, “And no, we are not leaving. Thank you, Josephine.” 

She slammed her money down and picked up her bags. She watched Nero carefully to make sure he didn’t trip her on the way out. 

She had to walk the far path, past the street, and past the school, where the little children would jump rope and chant. It was always the same chant. Either they really loved it, or knew when she was coming so they could start. The teachers wouldn’t stop them.

_ “‘Little Fi,’ said Fernald, ‘would you like a cup of tea?’ ‘No,’ said little Fi, ‘you’ll poison me!’ ‘Little Fi,’ said Fernald, ‘would you like to go to sleep? Down in the boneyard six feet deep.’” _

She wasn’t here. She wasn’t here. She was on the moon. She had a farm on the moon, much better than the Widdershins farm. Fernald and her had a beautiful garden, even better than the one they tended religiously now. They wore rose petals in their hair, and rode on flying horses. The only songs were from the craters, and not from the schoolchildren. 

_ “‘Little Fi,’ said Fernald, ‘would you like a cup of tea?’” _

Fiona made it to the dirt path, and then the gate her father had built, to keep the villagers off of Widdershins land. She locked it behind her, and went up the hill. At the top stood the tall Widdershins mansion, and at the edge of the garden stood Fernald.

“Look how far I came today.” he said, smiling and helping her with her bags. “Pretty soon I’ll be going to the village myself.” 

“You wouldn’t like it.” Fiona said. 

“Perhaps I might. These are heavy, did you carry them all this way?” 

“No, I flew home on a winged horse.” 

“Of course you did, Fiona. Did you get eggs? I forgot to put them on the list.”

“Yes. Where’s Klaus?” 

“Chasing a squirrel. He should be nearby.” 

Fiona whistled, and after a moment, her small black cat rustled his way out of the tree, winding down like a streak of black lightning, and scampered under her feet. 

“Hello, Klaus. You catch anything for our dinner?” 

Klaus mewed. Useless as always. 

Inside, they put the groceries away, and Fiona said, “It’s Strauss’s day.” 

“I know, I already have the tea ready.” 

Justice Strauss came by for tea every Friday. Fiona and Fernald both wished she wouldn’t but she thought they were happy to see her, so they said nothing to her about it. 

“Should I clean Mother’s dining room?” 

“Already cleaned.” 

In just a few moments, a car stopped outside; Fiona could always hear cars coming up the hill, it took them quite the effort. She went to the far window and pushed back the curtain to see Justice Strauss leaving the car. There was a woman with her. 

Fiona froze. “She brought someone.” 

Fernald was silent a moment, and then said, “Well, I have to take a first step sometime.” 

“Shall I tell them to go away? She should know better.” 

“No, Fiona, let them in.” 

And so Fiona did; the other person was Geraldine Julienne, someone who had come by the house every now and again some seven or eight years ago, before the incident. Strauss was once again smiling and friendly, and Fiona showed them their beautiful staircase while Fernald set up the dining room. Once inside, Strauss, again, tried to convince Fernald that it was time for him to go outside again.

“I just want you to remember, that all that hate you think you feel?” she said. “It’s all in your head. They’re just all curious. They know it was an accident. Isn’t that right, Geraldine?” 

“Right.” Geraldine said. She hadn’t touched her tea. 

And then Fernald excused himself to get the milk, and as he did, Fiona heard wheels coming down the hall, and held open the door for Stepfather. 

“Aye, a visitor!” he said, still speaking as if he was in the navy. He’d always spoken like that. “Aye! You’re that Julienne lass, from the newspaper! I bet you’re here to report on the accident!” 

“Now, Captain,” Justice Strauss scolded. “We don’t need to discuss such a horrible time. It would be much better if Fernald forgot all about it.” 

“But…” Geraldine’s hands drummed on the table, “If you want to discus it-” 

“Want to? Aye! I won’t hesitate! It’s been my life’s work for the last six years! Aye! It was in this room, you know.” 

Fiona moved to the corner, watching with her dark eyes as Justice Strauss tutted and tried to make him stop.

“We were all havin’ dinner- me, my wife, Fernald’s little brother, and Gregor and Ike Anwhistle, the family cousins. Lovely group. Shame what happened, aye!” 

“Now, Captain-” 

“It was in this very room?” Geraldine asked, excited. 

“Aye! All sitting around this round table, you see? We were such a large family, and then there were only three!” 

“Because of the sugar.” 

“Geraldine!” 

“Aye, because of the sugar! I’ve spent six years, lass, trying to find out who put arsenic in our sugar bowl. Fernald was acquitted, you know. It was a long trial, but I would’ve testified if I had been in any state! Aye, you know… arsenic is flavorless. You don’t even know you’ve had it until…” 

“Captain, please.” Justice Strauss said. Fernald had returned, and barely reacted to his stepfather’s story, instead bringing the milk cup to the table. 

“There was suspicion on him, you know! For not taking any sugar, aye! And for cleaning the sugar bowl after everyone had started to die, aye!” 

“There was a spider in it.” Fernald said quietly, just loud enough for them to hear. 

“But Fernald never takes sugar! Aye! And I only take a sprinkle, which is why I am still alive to tell the tale, aye, but left in this chair! And Fiona was sent upstairs without supper for being a naughty girl that day.” 

Fiona shut her eyes. Fernald said, “That happened all the time. Because she didn’t want to be inside or wear shoes. I got used to sneaking her food.” 

“Aye! She was in the orphanage until Fernald was acquitted, you know.” 

Geraldine’s sparkling eyes turned to Fernald. “Is it true that, when you were arrested, you said they deserved it?” 

“That is _ enough!” _Justice Strauss stood up. “This was a tragedy we all should forget! Geraldine, come with me!” 

“You haven’t touched your tea.” Fiona said blankly. 

“I…” Geraldine pushed the tea away. “I’m fine. I can see my friend wants us to leave.” 

And so they left, and as soon as the car pulled out of the driveway, Fernald said, “You were magnificent, Stepfather.” 

“Aye! I was, wasn’t I?” 

“And Fiona, you were teasing them!” 

“I wanted them to leave.” 

Stepfather’s face flickered a moment. “It… it did happen, aye?”

Fernald bit his lip. “Yes, Stepfather. It did happen. You can check your papers again.” 

“Aye, I will. Aye.” 

Stepfather forgot things a lot, Fiona noticed. Even though she was not allowed in his room, she knew he kept papers on every detail of that day. Everything he could recall that could explain who poisoned the family, and who made the town hate them so. 

“I’ll be down by the creek.” Fiona said, and she went outside with Klaus, who purred and chased field mice. Fiona liked to hide in the tall grass, so tall that if she sat down she would be hidden. She checked her points by the house- the silver dollars she had buried were still buried. Her mother’s necklace was still tied around the branch. 

But as she walked to the edge of the property, she found that Stepfather’s old pocketbook had fallen from the tree, where she’d nailed it. She narrowed her eyes. That was not a good omen. She’d have to replace it as soon as she could.

She replaced it too late.

That night, someone came. 

Fiona heard the car coming up the driveway, when she went downstairs to find where Klaus had gone. She heard the car, and she froze; perhaps it was just the thunder, or hard rain. She paused, and she looked out the window. 

“Fernald.” her voice was too quiet for him to hear upstairs. That was good. He should not know someone was here. 

A man pounded on the door. He called for Fernald, too, but much louder. Fiona remembered how this used to go, when people would come six years ago. Pound on the door, try the back door, try the windows. _ We deserve to see him! Let the murderer show his face! _

When she unfroze, she raced up the stairs, and ran for Father’s room. They had kept it exactly the same since he fell off the bridge when she was seven, save the few items Fiona would swipe to bury, when they needed extra protection. Today was one of those days. She needed something very powerful… there. She reached onto his bedside table, and took the statue of the mythical beast he had prized above all. It was small enough to nail to the tree. 

She raced down, and froze at the foot of the stairs. 

Fernald had opened the door, and was helping the man take off his coat. 

“Fiona!” he said, smiling. Why was he smiling? “It’s my old friend, Olaf! He came to visit us! Isn’t that great?”

No! No, it wasn’t great! 

Fiona stared for a moment, and then took off running. 

She ran out through the back, into the storming night. She grabbed the toolbox from beneath the deck, and she ran to her tree, where the book had fallen, and ripped out a hammer and nail. She held up the statue, and nailed it as fast as she could.

There. Now the man would be gone- he must not be a man at all. He must be a ghost. A ghost that would be banished now. 

Still, she didn’t want to return home quite yet. 

She went to the creek, where there was a small dirt mound beneath the grass. It was her place, her own little place. Klaus found her there, somehow, and she cuddled with her cat and listened to the rain fall. 

She returned the next morning, and Fernald was preparing breakfast. “Good morning, Fiona!” he said brightly. 

“Hello.” she said, smiling. No more ghosts. “Are you making salad?” 

“Yes!” 

“Did you feed Stepfather?” 

“Yes, he’s going over his notes again.” Fernald hummed- actually hummed. “And Olaf will be coming down to eat with us.” 

Fiona froze. “Who?” 

“Olaf. He came last night. His parents wouldn’t let him visit us before, but they just died, so he can come make sure we’re alright. Isn’t that nice of him? You saw him, didn’t you?” 

Fiona shook, as Klaus ran across her feet. “That was a ghost.” 

He smiled. “Oh, Fiona, do be nice to him. We haven’t had a pleasant visitor in some time.” 

Fiona moved to sit in her stool in the corner, just as Olaf came down. The towering man looked every bit the horrible ghost, with graying hair and a filthy smell. 

“Good morning, Fernald!” he said, and Fernald smiled. Olaf turned to Fiona, then, and said, “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” 

“You remember little Fiona, don’t you? You never met her, because she liked to play in the garden, but I’d mentioned her before.” 

“Ah, yes. She’s grown up so fast.” 

Fiona said nothing. 

Olaf looked at her. “Hello, Fiona.” 

Words had power. He would get no powerful words from her. 

Klaus leapt onto her lap, curling up. Olaf raised his eyebrow- he had one long one, instead of two. “My, that’s a fancy cat. What’s his name?” 

Telling him the name of the cat wasn’t that powerful, and besides, Fernald was looking at her as if he expected her to speak. 

“Klaus.” she said finally. 

Olaf knelt down and held out his hands, and Klaus ran down to sniff, see if he had any food. Fiona bristled. She would have to tell Klaus not to go near that man. “That’s a lovely name.” he said. 

Stepfather banged on the door. “Fernald, aye! I’m done with breakfast!” 

“Coming, stepfather!” Fernald said, running out. 

Olaf leaned over to the cat, and said, “I think Little Fiona doesn’t like me, Klaus. I wonder if she knows what I do to people who don’t like me.” 

Fiona glared at him. 

“And I wonder,” he continued, stroking the cat, “Which one of us Fernald would want to stay.” 

He stayed too long. 

He ate Fernald’s food and made jokes that her brother laughed at. He slept in Father’s room, and one day started wearing his watch. He smoked, and Fernald had to dig out Stepfather’s old ashtrays for him to use. He went into town, instead of Fiona, to bring back the groceries. The first time he did it, Fiona “neglected” to mention the library books. She never mentioned them to him. 

One day, he was trying to fix the porch step. Fiona walked up to him, head held high. “I have decided to ask you to leave.” she said. 

He looked up at her, his eyes sparkling. “Okay, then.” 

She looked down. “Please leave.” 

“No.” 

Fiona shook with anger, but she held it in. Hold it in. 

Olaf smiled a little, and said, “You’re a pretty little girl, Fiona, but I’d be careful. I think Fernald likes me. I don’t think he wants me to leave. I think he might be mad at someone who would try to force me away.” 

She turned heel and left. 

She had a feeling Stepfather wasn’t too fond of him, but even he warmed up eventually. Stepfather used to sit in the garden while Fiona and Fernald worked and write his notes, but now he sat and talked to Olaf. 

“Now, Captain,” Olaf said, “I don’t want to hear about that tragedy, and Fernald doesn’t, either.” 

Fiona dug around her mushrooms. She’d cultivated them herself. 

“I think I’ll start the next chapter today.” Stepfather said, looking over his notes. He had been planning a memoir for some time. “I think I’ll begin with an outright lie, aye! What do you think, Fernald?” 

Fernald didn’t respond, and Olaf said, “He doesn’t want to talk about this.” 

“I think I’ll start by saying your Mother was pretty.” 

Fiona sat by her mushrooms. She wished they were Amanita phalloides. There were plenty of those on the moon. 

“I found it nailed to a tree!” 

Olaf was furious. He was waving the statue, her statue. 

“Oh, Fiona did that.” Fernald said, looking down at his poetry, not meeting anyone’s eye. “She likes to nail things to the trees, and bury things.” 

“Do you know how expensive this is?” 

“It’s just something she does.” 

“This is too expensive to just leave nailed to a tree! It could be damaged!” 

Fiona watched from the corner, stroking Klaus. Olaf had her statue in one hand, and a cigar in the other. She didn’t like that. 

He turned, angry, and said, “You! What do you have to say for yourself?” 

She cocked her head, and said, “Conocybe filaris. Cortinarius species. Galerina marginata.” 

“What the _ hell _ is she saying?” 

“She lists mushrooms sometimes.” Fernald stared very hard at his book. “Do you want me to set the table for dinner?” 

“Lepiota brunneoincarnata. Medusoid mycelium. Amanita phalloides.” 

Olaf slammed the cigar on an ashtray. “I’m putting this where it can’t be hurt. Where’s the family safe, Fernald?” 

The safe was where they kept their money. Fiona narrowed her eyes. Interesting that he wanted to put the statue there. 

She set Klaus down, and went to the stream to check her other wards. 

“He must not be only a ghost.” she said to her cat, as she made sure the coins were still buried. “He could not have touched the ward. He must be a demon, also. It must be hard for him, to be both a demon and a ghost and to still deceive Fernald and Stepfather so.” 

She smiled, and turned to the cat, who was licking his paws. “I will drive him away. If he cannot recognize his room, he will leave.” she grinned. “Fetch me a mouse. I’ll need everything we can get.” 

When Olaf left for town, she went into Father’s room. He’d moved things around. But she’d move more. 

She took his mattress and pulled it from the house, throwing it into the stream. She brought buckets inside, and dumped the dirt inside onto the mattress. She flipped the blankets upside-down and placed them over the muck, and then she overturned the drawers, and tossed grass and flowers onto the dressers. She stood on the desk, and took the mirror, which she had seen Olaf stand in front of for hours, and took Fernald’s hammer to it. It _ clanked _ and shattered. She opened the window, throwing the curtains out, and then she hung the tall grass from them instead. Klaus watched her from the doorway curiously. 

Fiona capped it all off, after sprinkling more dirt and mud onto the floor, by leaving a deathcup mushroom on the place his pillow used to be. 

She went to the stream and skipped rocks. They could skip rocks on moon streams, her and Fernald. 

And when she returned, Olaf was shouting. 

She opened the door, and he whipped around. Fernald was by the stove, staring at his feet. He used to do that when Mother and Uncle Gregor were upset, too. And when Uncle Ike would find something wrong with his food. Stepfather was sitting by the table, shuffling his notes. And Olaf was holding a cigar and he had fire in his eyes. 

“You!” he said, venom in his voice. “Care to explain what you’ve done to my room?” 

Fiona remained silent. Olaf wouldn’t be allowed on the moon. 

“She’s just a child.” Fernald said quietly. “She’s just having fun.” 

“She has _ destroyed _my room! She’s destroyed all the priceless items your father kept there!” 

“Listen, she’s just playing-” 

“Chlorophyllum molybdites.” Fiona said. “Tricholema equestre. Russula emetica.” 

“Shut _ up!” _Olaf roared. He took a threatening step towards her. She did not flinch. “I don’t want to hear about your horrible mushrooms, you little beast!” 

How dare _ he _ call _ her _a beast? 

“Olaf, please.” Fernald said. “She’s just a child, she didn’t mean harm.” 

“Aye, keep it down!” Stepfather said. “I’m collecting my notes! I’m writing about-” 

“I don’t _ care!” _Olaf shouted. “It’s time to put that behind you! Fernald and I-” 

“You are a demon!” Fiona shouted, suddenly and strikingly. “You are a ghost and a demon and I will expel you from our home!” 

Olaf’s eyes were on fire again. _ “What?” _

“It’s just some things she says.” Fernald said quickly. “She speaks different, I-” 

Olaf raised a hand, as if to strike her, and though she did not move, she felt her blood run cold. “She’s ruining your family name!” he said. “You are _ respectable, _ and you are _ well-bred _ and _ rich _and she is destroying you!” 

“Please, Olaf, calm down.” Fernald said desperately. “I made dinner, and I can play the piano, my mother used to play whenever Uncles Gregor and Ike-” 

“I will not rest,” Olaf said darkly, “Until you punish her.” 

“Punish me?” Fiona said, in a very small voice. “Like send me to my room without supper?” 

And before anyone could answer, she turned and fled. 

She collapsed in her place, her grove, and Klaus found her. She was crying, but Klaus was allowed to see her cry. He wouldn’t send her to bed without food. He wouldn’t threaten to strike her. He wouldn’t uproot her life. 

She imagined her family. Mother would tell her she looked alright. Little brother would let her have his dinner. Father was there, and smiling, and Stepfather could walk, and hummed softly. Gregor and Ike let her read their books, and everything was alright. 

She didn’t think it had ever been like that, but maybe it could be on the moon. With their flying horses. 

“I’m getting rid of him.” she vowed to Klaus. “Getting rid of the _ demon.” _

She went into the house through the front door, while Fernald played the song their mother used to play. She went up into Father’s room, still destroyed. Olaf had been in here recently, and some things were piled in a basket, stuff he thought he could salvage. She knew it was him, because there was an ashtray on the dresser again, and a smoking cigar on it. Still hot. She must have just missed him. 

She walked to the dresser, considered, and then knocked the cigar into the wastebasket. 

Smoke started after just a second. She would smoke him out. 

“There’s our little Fiona.” Olaf snarled, as she entered, Klaus in her arms. She ignored him, opening the door to let the cat out. He quickly ran off after a bird. “Ready to apologize?” 

“Now, now, let’s be civil.” Fernald said. “Stepfather-” 

“Be quiet, all.” Stepfather said. “I’m writing about your brother. He was climbing trees that day, wasn’t he?” 

“Forget it all!” Olaf shouted. “I’m sick and tired of-” he stopped, then, and widened his eyes. “What is that smell?” 

“Maybe the oven’s still on.” Fernald suggested, but a quick glance showed that was wrong. 

“It’s definitely smoke.” Fiona said. 

Olaf leapt to his feet and ran from the room to investigate. Fiona smiled, and turned to Fernald. “He is a ghost and a demon.” she said. 

Fernald looked at her, and his face fell. “Oh, Fi…” 

Olaf raced back in. “Fire! The house is on _ fire!” _

“Fire!” Stepfather started. “Aye! I’ll have to get my notes from my room!” 

“You fool, leave the notes!” Olaf groaned. “Why don’t you have a telephone? I’ll run into town and get the fire department. Fernald, get the safe out of the house.” 

He left, and Fernald stared after him, eyes widening. Stepfather wheeled past, saying, “I have to get my notes, aye! Out of my way!” 

Fiona paused a moment. “Fernald? Is the house on fire?” 

“We’ll have to go outside.” he said, his voice shaking. “People will see me.” 

Fiona shook her head. She grabbed her brother’s arm, leading him to the foyer, where she grabbed his coat, for him to pull over his face. She could see smoke, now, much more smoke than had been in the wastebasket. 

They went out the side door, but even then, the crowd had arrived. Fiona stood at the corner of the house, watching people run up, pointing and gawking. Some were laughing. 

The fire truck arrived, as did Olaf. “Go inside and get the safe out!” he was calling, but nobody was listening much to him. 

“Let it burn!” someone shouted to the firemen. They looked tempted, but shook their heads, pulling out the hoses and working. 

“Aw, let it burn!” “We should have let it burn ages ago!” “I only wish I’d been the one to set it!” 

“They can’t see us.” Fiona whispered, grabbing her brother’s hand. “They cannot.” 

It took a while, but the fire was put out. One of the firemen turned to the villagers, and said, “Alright, alright, everyone. Fire’s out.” 

People groaned and sighed. Then the fireman paused, slowly put his uniform hat onto the truck and then took a rock and threw it through the window. 

All at once, the crowd was happy, and they ran. They burst through the door, throwing things through the windows. Fiona could hear things being smashed inside, and people screaming and singing. 

_ “‘Little Fi,’ said Fernald, ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ ‘No,’ said Little Fi, ‘You’ll poison me!’” _

Olaf was shouting something about the safe, but once again nobody was listening. Fernald shook, and a chair crashed through a window, very close to them. Fiona jumped and pulled Fernald out of the way, but that was a mistake. 

“There they are!” 

Fiona took his hand and ran, racing to the woods, only for Nero to step in front of her. 

“Little Fi,” he said, “Would you like a cup of tea?” 

Fiona whipped around, to run to the house, but Josephine blocked her path. And then Georgina, and Esmé, and the Spats parents, and the schoolchildren, and the Calibans, and everyone not ruining their house. 

_ “Little Fi, would you like to go to sleep?” _

Fiona grabbed onto her brother’s arm, just as a car horn beeped, very loudly. 

They all turned and looked, as Justice Strauss emerged from her car. “What on _ Earth _is going on here?” she asked, startled. 

All at once, everything was silent. 

Then, someone came out of the house- Olivia Caliban. She called out, “The Captain is dead!” 

Everyone was quiet again. Then, came Olaf’s voice. “Did _ he _ kill him?” 

People started to move, as Olivia said, “No! It seemed to be a heart attack! What… what are we all doing?” 

There was finally an opening in the crowd. Without looking back, Fiona grabbed her brother’s arm and ran. 

She hid them in her place, by the stream. When Fernald finally removed the jacket from around his face, still shaking, Fiona ran her hand over his, and she allowed herself a smile. “We are on the moon.” she said. 

They returned to the house in the morning. So many things were broken, but some had been ignored. They still each had a cup, and the food in the cellar, which the rioters hadn’t found. The safe was still where it was, untouched and unopened. Their mother’s dining room was completely destroyed, but that didn’t matter. They’d decided Justice Strauss shouldn’t come on Fridays anymore. Oh, she came anyway, for several days, pounding on the doors and begging to help, saying that it was all a big misunderstanding, that they should come out. 

The first time she came, Fiona glanced curiously over at Fernald. He smiled, as if they were sharing a secret, and shook his head. They never went out. 

He made her dresses out of tablecloth, to replace the ones that had burnt. The garden was safe, so they got their food from there, until the second week. When the second week began, a guilty Monty Montgomery, who had not been in the crowd but still felt bad, left them a basket of food. Then the Smiths left something, and the Calibans. Soon, every week, they expected groceries from town, sometimes even sweets. 

Olaf tried to come back, once. He pounded on the door, calling for Fernald. Fernald and Fiona sat only a few feet away, watching. 

“Fernald, I’m here to take care of you and Fiona! I want to help!” 

Fiona looked at Fernald. He smiled that smile again, and shook his head. 

“Fernald! Let me in! You need me!” 

Fiona started to giggle, only barely quiet enough that Olaf couldn’t hear. 

He stayed there for an hour, before calling that he was leaving for the final time, and would not come back. They waited until he was in his car, and then they burst into laughter. 

The fire had burnt a hole in the roof, but after a while, ivy covered it. Fiona sat underneath it, and said, “It’s like a castle.” 

Fernald nodded at her, and then they went out to the garden. 

They’d never have to go into town again. Never have to speak to anyone else. Fiona could run in the woods with Klaus, and visit her sites, where she’d buried and nailed. She buried her Stepfather’s pen, as a sort-of grave; they’d taken his body and buried him somewhere else, but they didn’t really care to visit. They didn’t care to go anywhere. 

“Do you want to leave the castle?” Fiona asked one night, before food started arriving, before Olaf came a second time, before they knew for sure that they would never have to leave. 

Fernald shook his head. “I never did. All I need is my sister and my poetry and my garden.” 

“And my mushrooms.” Fiona smiled. “Klaus can catch us meat.” 

“And you won’t have to see the villagers anymore.” 

Fiona’s face had gone blank, and she said, “That was horrible of them.” 

“I know.” 

“I want them to be punished.” she said, running a hand through her hair. 

“I know you do.” Fernald said softly.

Fiona considered, and then announced, “I will poison their food and watch them die.” 

Fernald was silent for a moment, staring down at his book. Then, he looked up and said, in a very quiet voice, “Like you did six years ago?” 

He’d never said it aloud before. That he knew. That he’d always known.

Fiona looked up at him, searching for a reprimand in his face. He had none. No judgement. Only understanding. 

“Yes,” she said finally. “Like I did six years ago.” 


End file.
